I flipping hope Josh does break this guy’s jaw. I can’t even see anything, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it go down.
“I didn’t say anything,” Ryder mutters. He clutches his head again. “I didn’t say anything.”
He doesn’t like yelling either.
I hug his shoulders and squeeze. He likes to be touched and hugged by certain people, and I’m happy to be one of them. I like it too, so it works. “Mitch deserved it. He totally deserved it.”
“I-I shouldn’t have hit him.”
Drake blows out his lips. “Yeah, you should’ve. It was a good hit too.”
“My dad’s gonna hate me if Uncle Dan hates him.”
“Well, I’mma ‘bout to go hit your uncle.”
“D,” I say, glaring at my brother. “Shhh.”
Ryder doesn’t need to feel worse, but Drake has a temper. He better watch it.
“You coddle him,” Ryder’s uncle says. “He’s off, but maybe if you’d be a man and teach him something, he might be normal.”
Ryder stiffens. I rest my head against his shoulder and say without thinking, “Normal’s boring.”
For a second, I think he laughs, sort of. It’s a sound from his nose that is like a laugh started, then he changed his mind.
“Get off my property, Dan. And stay off.”
“Seriously?”
Ryder presses his fists into his eyes. “They’re brothers, and I ruined it.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Take it from me, since I have a brother, if D was being a jerk like this guy, I’d tell him to leave too. Josh is freaking Superman.”
“He’s a . . . he’s a rancher,” Ryder says like he can’t help it.
I smile. Sometimes he just doesn’t get my jokes, but it’s okay.
“I haven’t been mean to him,” Mitch whines like a wimpy baby. “I swear. I just didn’t want to play with those other kids. They’re the ones who are mean.”
Ryder shakes his head and buries his face in his knees.
“There are bruises all over him,” Josh says. “Old ones he says he’s gotten from ball practice, but you know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking he’s been taking beatings for a long time. Today, he finally fought back. How’s that make you feel, Dan?”
“Boys will be boys,” Dan shouts back. “They fight.”
“Has he been hittin’ you, Ryd?” Drake asks.
Ryder doesn’t answer, but I think it’s more he can’t. He’s told me sometimes when he gets upset or excited words don’t come out, they sort of get stuck.
I’ve got this.
With one hand, I start to knead his palm. It’s deep, like I’m really rolling out cookie dough or something.
Ryder closes his eyes and straightens his fingers, inviting me to keep going.
“I said I wouldn’t tell,” Ryder says. “But I couldn’t do it anymore.”
Drake looks like he ate a hundred hot tamales. His fists ball up. “He’s not going to touch you again. Right, Avie?”
